


Prohibition

by ddagent



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Hecate Hardbroom has some much needed alone time, Masturbation, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 00:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: After catching one of the sixth years streaming a dirty video, Hecate's mind turns to her own illicit collection.





	Prohibition

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written last November for NaNoWriMo and it's finally edited. I really hope you enjoy it!

Hecate would never admit it but sometimes she preferred the younger students. They were boisterous, yes, but they were also innocent. None of the trouble she had with the older pupils. Witches sneaking out after curfew to meet boys from town. Witches getting caught in other girls’ rooms with charcoal nightclothes tossed to one side. At least when she caught Mildred in Enid’s room, Hecate knew they were just cooking up another hare-brained scheme. Not brewing a potion for lubricant that _tingled._

The girls were never punished though. Ada would do nothing more than lightly admonish them before saying ‘girls will be girls, Hecate’, or ‘we were all young once’. Hecate Hardbroom, through all her formative years, had _never_ been caught cavorting with another pupil after hours. It was unseemly, undignified. This was a place of _learning._

A lesson one of their sixth years had yet to grasp.  

Evening rounds nearly complete, Hecate caught sight of a dim light under the door of Bethany Willow _._ A shy girl, Bethany kept mostly to herself. If she was up past curfew, it was to study. Yet, ear pressed tight against the door, Hecate could hear _noises_. Curiosity piqued, Hecate thrust it open.

“Lights out, Miss Willow!”

Bethany yelped at the sudden presence of Miss Hardbroom, immediately snatching at the sheets to cover herself. Hecate simply rolled her eyes. Miss Willow would not be the first student she had caught masturbating at Cackles. She doubted Miss Willow would be the last. Yet, just as Hecate was about to lecture the sixth year on the nature of curfew, she heard those sounds again. Louder, now, in the quiet of Bethany’s room. Someone was speaking. Someone was _moaning._

Approaching the bed, Hecate flicked over the corner of the sheets to reveal a device: a mobile telephone fitted with a large el-cee-dee screen. Hecate gingerly picked it up; peering at the images it played in the web- _site_ browser.

“Sirens…the _hotspot_ for witch on witch…” Hecate sucked in a breath as she finished reading, turning to the young witch with blazing eyes. “Miss Willow, is this _pornography_?”

As if on cue, the moans from the device grew louder. Hecate’s eyebrows rose into her hairline as she watched the video Miss Willow had chosen to play: _Young Witch gets a Spanking from Miss Cauldron._ A young woman in a generic academy uniform was being spanked repeatedly with the silver handle of a potion ladle. They had, _apparently,_ brewed an ‘arousal potion’ and were ‘testing it out’. Hecate dropped the device like it had scorched her fingers. She curled them, and her mouth, in distaste.

“You would bring this… _filth_ into the castle?”

_“Spank me harder, Miss Cauldron, harder!”_

Bethany Willow pressed her chin into her chest, refusing to meet Hecate’s eye. “I’m sorry, Miss Hardbroom. It won’t happen again.”

“It certainly will _not._ This _device_ is _confiscated_.” With a wave of her hand, the mobile telephone vanished. “As for _you_ , Miss Willow, perhaps cleaning the lavatories after lessons for the next _month_ will make you think twice about bringing prohibited devices and _material_ into the castle?”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

“ _Good._ Now blow out that candle and go to _sleep._ ”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate closed the door behind her with a firm _thump_. With evening rounds now complete, all pupils safely asleep in bed (apart from Mildred Hubble, who Hecate did not have the energy to deal with right now), she returned to her own quarters. On the table was Miss Willow’s mobile telephone, still playing that _ghastly_ video. Hecate suffered through several seconds of Miss Cauldron thrusting into her pupil with a bulbous headed dildo before she waved the device into the confiscation cupboard.

_Dreadful thing._

Times, as if Hecate needed reminding, were changing. Pornography and erotica were more visceral; sex as easy to access through these _websites_ as information on Witch Academy rankings. Gone were the days of erotic photography; beautiful enchantresses in nothing more than lingerie. Shot in a way to tease, suggest. Now you could watch a woman be spanked with a potion ladle without any mystery whatsoever. Hecate truly despaired.

After stowing her dressing gown and keys, Hecate was at a loss for what to do next. Normally, she would retreat to her bed chamber and get some much needed sleep. But Miss Willow’s video had needled something inside of her. Without thinking, she found herself walking towards her wardrobe. A swish of her hand opened the doors, removed the boxes at the bottom, and revealed the small chest kept under lock and key and concealment charm. A whispered spell in the quiet dark opened the latch.

Pornography had no place within the rooms of their pupils. But Hecate Hardbroom was an adult. She had _needs._

Running a finger along the neckline of her night dress, Hecate felt unnaturally warm in the presence of the small chest. It had kept her most secret possessions for the longest time and now hid more _intimate_ treasures. Sitting on her bed, the chest between her legs, Hecate began to sift through the contents. There were photographs; black and white images of witches in lingerie posing over cauldrons, by brooms. One, Hecate’s favourite as a young woman, was of a witch wearing nothing but her hat. The shadows kept it from becoming obscene, giving Hecate’s imagination just enough to run away with.

Leaning back against the headboard, Hecate traced the lines of the photographs. Ample bosoms, thick thighs, pert lips. The room grew warmer as the photographs grew more erotic. There was one in her collection, a blonde witch with dusky nipples; her familiar lying atop her cunt. Hecate began to massage her breast, bringing her own nipples to stiff peaks as she pictured pressing her lips to the blonde’s skin. Closing her eyes, just for a moment, Hecate tried to imagine what it would be like to feel that nipple stiffen against her tongue.

_She moaned._

Moving onto the next picture, Hecate marvelled at a witch in a library; stacks of books hiding bare legs and breasts. Sliding a hand underneath her night dress, Hecate teased her inner thigh. She imagined doing the same to the witch in the photograph, of resting on her hands and knees and running her nose, her tongue, across forbidden flesh. The library was a place for quiet, for learning. In the depths of the stacks she would learn how to give this witch pleasure.

Hecate’s hand grew bolder, moving to the supple flesh between her thighs. Her fingers slid through wet heat, her thumb brushing her clit. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, a measure designed to stop herself crying out in the dark room. Her strokes grew bolder; two fingers slick against engorged flesh. She imagined the next witch in her photographs; long fingers holding a magic wand in one hand, a quill in the other, thrusting their way inside Hecate’s cunt. She filled herself, one finger then two; picturing the witch taking Hecate for her own.

Photographs scattered across the sheets as Hecate’s movements grew more erratic. She felt her body move closer to orgasm, tingles of pleasure running through her. Hecate rubbed her clit mercilessly until she reached the verge, then stopped to ride her fingers once more. Another photograph, this one in colour, caught her eye. The lingerie was purple; a pocket watch resting between her breasts. She lay, open, on a bed. As if waiting for Hecate to join her.

“ _Fuck…_ ”

Hecate clutched the sheets as she pushed herself closer and closer. She could only take so much torture before she would fall over the edge. Her fingertips brushed through the photographs, her eyes seeking purchase on an image that would push her to oblivion. She caught sight of her most treasured item: a dog-eared photograph of Pippa Pentangle.

Her orgasm slammed into her. Hips jerked upwards; her body clenching around greedy fingers. Hecate bit into the pillowcase to stop her screams waking the entire school. Aftershocks rippled through her as she lay, spent, across the sheets.

Once recovered, Hecate washed her hands and gently placed every photograph back in the chest. It was locked, concealed, hidden. Tomorrow she would supervise Miss Willow’s detention for bringing pornography into the school and no one would be any the wiser to her own tastes.

Hecate slept well that night. 


End file.
